


Delicate Times

by bzarcher



Series: Triptych [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Birth, Canon-Typical Violence, Commissioned fic, Discussions of PTSD, Emotional Recovery, Evolving relationships, F/F, How They Met, Lemon Tea, Lemon Tea Maker, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, OT3, Post-Recall, Post-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Recall, Pregnancy, Reasonably Canon Compliant, Romance, Twins, Weddings, Widowtracer, discussions of therapy, gingerspider, labor, widowtracily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: A beginning is a very delicate time. For a hero. For a villain. For a relationship. For a marriage. For a family. For a life.Tracer and Widowmaker met on a battlefield, but they could have no idea where their journeys would lead from there.





	Delicate Times

As her squad sat in the Orca speeding towards Italy, Tracer couldn’t help the way her leg kept bouncing up and down. Unlike her first mission, Overwatch had been officially asked to intervene, but that just meant the stakes were higher – everyone was depending on the team being deployed to succeed.

Noticing her nerves, one of the troopers sitting on the other side of the transport grinned back at her. “First you get to kick Null Sector out of London, now you get to take on Talon? Must be nice to start off with a couple of milk runs.”

She snorted, catching Dr. Ziegler’s attention.

“You’ll do fine, Tracer,” the medic said reassuringly before she turned her focus to the squaddie. “And as for _you_ , Cadet Hyde, I’d suggest you not be overconfident. Talon is dangerous, and they’ve hurt us before. Badly.”

Hyde gave a pained grunt, then nodded. “Yes ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

Lena couldn’t help but think of the funeral service they’d held a few weeks ago for Captain Amari, going quiet and doing her best to keep still for the rest of the flight.

It seemed like they’d barely hit the ground outside of the compound in the Italian Alps that had been identified as a Talon training base before the strike team hit resistance – and learned that the base was much better defended than they’d been lead to believe.

_**“SNIPER!”** _

Dr. Ziegler’s voice snapped over the comms as Lena blinked herself into cover, her heart pounding as she reloaded. “Hyde is down! We’re taking heavy fire!”

The commander’s voice crackled in her ears: “Morrison to Strike Team: Pull back!”

Lena shook her head. Hyde was on his _first mission_ , just like she had been in King’s Row. She couldn’t leave him. They wouldn’t have left _her_. “Commander, please, I can get him out of there!”

Morrison’s voice crackled with authority. “Pull back! That’s an order, Tracer!”

Lena’s heart sank as she saw some of the other strike team members starting to retreat. “Sir, _please…_ ”

“Oxton, your telemetry shows your accelerator already took three direct hits, even with you manipulating some of the damage away. I will _not_ send you into certain death to collect a corpse! You have your orders – _follow them!_ ”

Lena wanted to vomit, but she knew that as much as she hated it, the Commander’s reasons were sound.

“Yes, Commander. Tracer is falling back.”

The ride back to base was very, very quiet.

* * *

Lena had been home six months after the UN had formally disbanded Overwatch and declared the organization illegal, but civilian life hadn’t held much appeal for her. Not when she could be making a difference.

So, tonight, she was tooled up with her pistols and accelerator, and an old flying jacket over a compression top and a pair of tights, blinking into a filthy alley to have a look at a woman who had been found dead there. Lena aimed her last jump so that she’d pop back into reality just behind the redheaded crime scene tech who was carefully examining the corpse with gloved hands.

Looking over the redhead’s shoulder at the body, she gave a low whistle. “That’s a pretty nasty one.”

The redhead didn’t even look back at her. “Mm. Multiple slashing wounds and a couple of nasty blows to the chest. The medical examiner will need to confirm cause of death, but it appears her ribs were broken so badly that the lungs and heart were punctured. DCI thinks an omnic did this. He’s wrong.”

Lena raised an eyebrow beneath her goggles. “Yeah?”

The tech gestured to some of the marker tags that she’d placed nearby. “The footprints are clearly mechanical – but these markings look like _claws_ and the tread patterns don’t match any Omnic chassis. Then if you look at the bruising on the body…these impressions were left by a human hand.”

Lena gave a low whistle, quite impressed by her explanation. “That’s pretty good attention to detail.”

The crime scene tech chuckled darkly.“Well, that’s why I’m in Forensics.” Then, she turned and fixed Lena with a pair of captivating green eyes.  “Of course, that also means I am aware that I am supposed to arrest you, since Overwatch activity is illegal.”

Lena laughed nervously and tried not to look threatening. “I don’t suppose there’s a way I could get you to forget that part…?” _Also dear GOD you are very pretty, and I don’t want to have to pull a gun on you._

The crime scene tech gave her a tiny little smirk as she turned her attention back to the corpse. “I’m willing to pretend I didn’t see you as long as you’re willing to pretend I didn’t talk to you about this. In the meantime – the man who did this was between five and a half and six feet tall, carries a knife or some other kind of slashing implement, is strong enough to flail a woman’s chest with blunt force trauma, and apparently has some kind of custom cybernetic legs.” After her careful, clipped delivery of the details, Lena almost missed the dry humor that slipped into her tone. “I suspect you can make good use of that information, being an illegal vigilante.”

Lena couldn’t help but smirk a little. “What’s all that going to cost me, then?”

The tech shrugged. “I like Italian. Do you like Italian? Or we could have coffee.”

Lena blinked as she realized the implications of the question. “Oo. I mean…yes! I like Italian fine. Coffee, too.” She tried not to think about the fact that she was, technically, getting chatted up while standing next to a corpse, and gave a cough as she tried to keep her voice casual.  “So…doing anything tomorrow night?”

The tech turned completely around for the first time as she stood, and Lena felt her mouth go dry as she caught the appraising look in the tech’s eyes, then looked to the badge pinned just above her breast: _CRIMINALIST Emily Goodman_. (And perhaps, _perhaps_ , she was checking her out just a little.)  “Why don’t you call me and find out?”

* * *

When Lena finally made it back to the flat, her accelerator still kicking up sparks and angry snaps of chronal energy, Emily was waiting, her eyes filled with concern and fear.

“I saw the news.”

Lena tried to speak, but no words would come.

Emily took her hand and lead her back into the bedroom, carefully helping her remove the accelerator. Punching the button next to the bed that powered up the stabilizer array they’d put in the walls and floors of the bedroom, Emily looked at the impact damage and shrapnel that had gotten lodged in the accelerator’s housings, then placed it on the floor.

“Probably best not to try charging it until we have Winston take a look. We can ring him tomorrow, OK?”

Lena barely managed a nod. She stared at the carpet, that last taunt of ‘ _Foolish Girl’_ still ringing in her ears. The screams from the crowd etched into her memory. She didn’t even notice Emily sitting down on the bed until she felt her girlfriend’s arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her gently into a hug, letting Lena’s head come to rest against her shoulder.

Something in her broke, and everything that Lena had been holding back since she’d realized what her evasion – what her _cowardice_ – had allowed Widowmaker to do burst out of her. She gave a wordless cry of grief that trailed off into wracking, shuddering sobs that made her entire body shake as hot tears soaked into the fabric of Emily’s t-shirt. “I _tried_ …”

Emily’s hand came up to rub slow circles against Lena’s back, her voice a low, soothing murmur. “I know. Shhh. I know.”

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Lena let herself go, the bone-deep weariness bleeding into her voice. “I asked her why, and all she did was _laugh_ …”

Humming sympathetically, Emily held her a little tighter, gently rocking them both back and forth as Lena wept.

* * *

Lena blinked in shock at the voice coming over her phone earbud. “How did _you_ get this number?”

Sombra’s voice was exasperated, but also contained a snap of urgency. “Shut up and listen, _chica._ Talon found out about your girl and you need to get your ass home.”

Ice gripped Lena’s heart, and her eyes went wide. “I…how can I trust you?”

Sombra’s tone brooked no argument. “You don’t have time for this! _Move!_ Emily is dead if you don’t!”

Lena shook herself, but got her feet moving as she began to run across the rooftops towards King’s Row. “OK! I’m on my way but I swear to _God_ if this is a trap…”

“Just _go!_ I’m trying to get you some help but Talon is already on the move.”

Lena leapt onto the back of a helpfully passing bus, then frowned with suspicion as she took a quick breather. “…what kind of _help?_ ”

Sombra laughed softly, but it wasn’t her usual teasing chuckle. More of an uncertain, nervous titter that made Lena realize just how precarious the hacker’s position must be…and convinced her that whatever was going on, Sombra was telling the truth. “A friend.”

The line went dead and Lena stuffed her phone back in her jacket before leaping from the bus to another rooftop, making her way home as fast as her feet and the accelerator could carry her.

Lena tried to reach her flat, but the goons swarming the Row were clearly prepared for her. Her heart was in her throat as she struck another Talon grunt with the butt on her pistol. She’d gotten close enough to see the flash of red hair as Emily burst out of the stairwell and onto the rooftop, but too far to scream a warning to her girlfriend when she saw a pair of Talon soldiers chasing after her with their weapons drawn.

Lena took a running jump into space, blinking forward as fast as she could, despite knowing she wouldn’t be in range with her pistols in time. Praying for a miracle, a jammed gun, _anything_ …

Then, to Lena’s utter dumbfounded shock, her prayer received an answer in the form of a thunderclap as one of the skull-faced helmets exploded in a cloud of red ruin.

Emily slid behind a heating unit just before a burst of rifle fire scattered off the heavy metal casing, and a heartbeat later the second soldier fell with a neat hole in the dead center of his armored breastplate.

Finally close enough to make the leap, Lena let the accelerator carry her into the air and hit the rooftop running. “EMILY!” Her heart was pounding as she approached where Emily had taken cover, then froze in her tracks as she saw another figure land on the rooftop.

Terror and adrenaline combined to make time feel like it had slowed to a crawl as Widowmaker rose from her crouch, the burning red lenses of her visor concealing her face.

Widowmaker shifted her gaze to focus on her, and Lena’s mind ran through a million nightmares in a moment, imagining how the assassin might take yet another life while Lena could do _nothing_ to stop her.

Then, suddenly, the visor snapped back to reveal her expression – not cold and haughty as Lena had feared, but filled with surprise and concern – and reality suddenly slammed back into focus.

“You…you saved her?” Lena couldn’t hide the confusion in her voice as Widowmaker offered Emily a hand and helped her to her feet. “ _You?_ Why?”

Widowmaker shook her head sharply. “There is no time. There is another strike team on their way, and Sombra cannot jam their communications much longer.” She locked eyes with Lena. “Will your accelerator let you carry someone else when you teleport?”

Lena grimaced. “Not really.”

Widowmaker offered Emily her arm. “Then come with me.”

Emily looked to Lena with a wordless question in her eyes.

Lena glanced between her girlfriend and the woman she’d always considered her enemy, then nodded. “Go – I’ll cover you!”

When they reached the old Blackwatch safe house that Sombra had apparently managed to unearth, Widowmaker made sure the building was secure, then brought Emily across from the neighboring rooftop, swinging over on her grappling line with Emily clinging to her waist. Lena stepped towards the balcony, shaking with nervous energy and the comedown from the cocktail of adrenaline and fear that had been propelling her through the night.

Emily dashed over as soon as her feet touched down on the balcony, seizing Lena in a desperate hug without any regard for the accelerator as sobs wracked through her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I wasn’t thinking, I just tried to run…”

“No, no…luv, no, you did just right…” Lena held her tight and ran a hand gently up and down her back. “Shhh. You did just right, and you’re safe, ok? You’re safe now. You did so good, Emily.”

Emily shivered against her. “One of them kicked in the door and I was in the kitchen…” Emily stopped, then took a shuddering breath before she could go on, her voice shaking. “I hit him with the frying pan. Knocked him out, I think…”

Lena kissed the side of Emily’s neck despite the seriousness of the whole thing. “That’s my girl.” Looking up, she realized Widowmaker was still there, watching them, and felt a flush rise on her cheeks. “You never told me why…why you helped us.”

Widowmaker had slung her rifle on her shoulder, an unreadable expression on her face. “Sombra asked for my help. She said Talon was trying to capture someone important to you.”

Lena couldn’t help but stare, her voice dripping with disbelief. “…since when is that a reason for _you_ to help _?_ ”

Emily slowly relaxed her embrace. “Lena…it doesn’t matter why. Not right now. She helped us. That’s what’s important.” Slowly approaching the sniper, Emily extended her hand. “Thank you.”

With a little hint of something that might have been a smile, Widowmaker took Emily’s hand, turned it slightly, and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “ _Tout le plaisir était pour moi._ ”

Lena gave a sarcastic snort. “Are you _seriously_ implying you just betrayed Talon so you could try to steal my girl?”

Widowmaker’s only reply was to fire her grappling hook into the air, disappearing into the night.

Emily turned and despite the earlier madness of the evening she had an amused look in her eyes. “I don’t know, Lena…if she really did betray an international terrorist organization just so she could flirt with me, that’s pretty impressive.”

Lena groaned. “Oh, don’t you start.”

“I’m just saying, it could go to a girl’s head…”

* * *

Lena lifted her goggles onto her forehead, then slipped her pistols back into their holsters.

The smells of drying blood, gunpowder, and melted plastics mixed into a hideous cocktail that had filled the ‘office complex’ that represented Talon’s final stronghold. It coated the back of her mouth as she breathed or spoke, and she had a bad feeling she might have to burn her clothes to get rid of the stink after all this.

Six hours of furious urban combat had seen the reborn Overwatch triumphant, but the victory hadn’t been without cost.

Reaper – _Gabe_ – in a special containment cell. Fareeha shot from the sky by a lucky hit from a concealed gun emplacement. Alive – Angela had confirmed – but her Raptora armor shattered and, from what Lena could determine from the battlefield comms, with a badly injured arm that the doctor wasn’t sure she could save.

And then there were the ones who had paid a cost that couldn’t be measured in something physical.

She walked out of the building and watched the rooftops until she caught the sight of a long ponytail snapping in the evening wind. It only took a few jumps to lead her up to the rooftop where Widowmaker was sitting, her rifle leaning against the side of the wall.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Normally that at least got Widow to tease back at her, but tonight she just shook her head, her shoulders slumping as she stared at the smouldering wreckage. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t the reaction Lena had expected to get from her, but over the last several months nothing about Widowmaker had seemed to be what she’d expected.

The first time Widowmaker had just _appeared_ alongside an Overwatch op, providing cover fire against a group of ‘rogue’ Vishkar architechs who just happened to be attacking Lúcio’s home _favela_ , it had been shocking.

After three or four more ‘guest appearances’, it became clear Widowmaker was no longer part of Talon – particularly when Talon operatives and foot soldiers started shooting at her.

She wasn’t exactly a part of Overwatch either – Hana had made a crack about her being a ‘contractor’ and it had stuck – but it was obvious that Widowmaker wanted Talon taken down just as much as they did, and they’d slowly established a working relationship of sorts.

Lena had to admit that – at least on the battlefield – she’d even started to trust her, though changes like this to their old routines did make her a bit nervous.

“I thought you would feel…I dunno. Happy? I mean, this was the last one, right?”

Widow still didn’t look away from the building. _“Oui._ The very last. Yet…I do not feel happy. I do not feel sad, either. Just…empty.” When she finally turned away, Lena could see the tracks of recently shed tears on her cheeks. “I do not like it.”

Lena settled down next to her and offered her hand. After a moment, Widowmaker took it. “So…have you thought about what you might do next, then?”

“I did not expect to survive this,” Widowmaker admitted quietly, “I never imagined there could _be_ a ‘next’. For ten years…Talon has _defined_ me. Either as their weapon, or as their destruction. Without them…what am I, now?”

Lena squeezed the cool fingers of Widowmaker’s hand, then sat back. “Well. Aside from French, blue, exceptionally deadly, and devastatingly sexy?”

“ _Tracer…_ ” Widowmaker’s cheeks actually did turn a bit purple with her blush, which had never failed to make Lena smile ever since she’d realized the sniper _could_ blush. “Please. Not tonight.”

“You can call me Lena, you know.”

Widowmaker nodded, then looked back to the ruined building. “Lena, then. Please…no more jokes tonight.”

Lena nodded, her voice softening. “Serious question, then. Do you have anywhere to go? A place to stay?”

Widowmaker shrugged. “A hotel room. I have money Sombra that sent to me as my ‘severance package’. I suppose I could find…somewhere.”

“Thought as much,” Lena admitted, then stood up and offered her former nemesis a hand up. “Come home with me tonight, then. We’ll put you up while you figure out…who you want to be.”

Golden eyes blinked in surprise. “Why…?”

Lena smiled. “Aside from all of those other things I said? You’re the woman who saved Emily’s life, and I haven’t forgotten that.”

Widowmaker bowed her head and managed a soft huff of a chuckle. “Even if I did attempt to…steal your girl?”

Lena grinned. “Well, that _was_ a bit rude. Still, Em said she _might_ be willing to share if you behaved yourself.”

Widowmaker didn’t quite seem to know what to say to that, but she took the offered hand and let Lena pull her up to her feet.  “ _D’accord_.”

“Brilliant. You can take a little time – maybe talk to Zenny if he’s willing? See if he can help you a bit with things. I’ll call Em and let her know we’ll have some company – maybe order some takeaway? I don’t know about you, but once I get all the filth and muck off me I’m gonna be _starving._ ”

"Do you _always_ talk so much?”

Lena giggled as she lead them back to where the Orca that would carry the strike team back to Gibraltar (and from there to London) waited. “Nerves after a fight, luv. It’s this, eatin’ my weight in curry, or shaggin’ Em through the mattress to help myself come down, usually.”

She could almost hear Widowmaker rolling her eyes. “We can start with option two.”

“Heh. See? You’ll fit in just fine…” She paused, then turned around. “Um…can I ask one thing, though?”

Widowmaker tilted her head slightly. “Aside from all the things you have already asked?”

“Well…what would you like me to call _you?_ I get that ‘Widowmaker’ is the name you want to use in the field, but after…?”

The sniper considered that, then blushed again. “Amélie…Amélie is fine.”

“Right, then, Amélie.” Lena nodded her head to the waiting transport. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Rehabilitation, as Zenyatta had described their twice weekly ‘appointments’, was a slow, difficult process.

Amélie had done a great deal in slowly finding her way free of Talon’s ruthless controls, but there were still remnants lodged in the corners of her mind. She had to face them – either accept, or reject them – and confront the the memories of what she had done.

Some of her ‘work’ since the night she had been abducted by Talon and slowly transformed from Amélie Lacroix, dancer and housewife, to Widowmaker, ruthless assassin, she felt little about. She had been put through training, and she had endured it. She had been given missions, and she had completed them.

Other parts of her ‘career’ were much more complex, and confronting and working through that painful history often let Amélie uneasy and struggling to sleep. Even though the monk did his best to aid in her healing with his orbs and guiding her through meditation, it did little to stop the nightmares that were inevitably stirred up afterwards.

Amélie woke from a vision of a bloodstained bed – her bed, _their_ bed – and shivered beneath the cool cotton sheets.

Gérard had loved silks and satins for their bedclothes. She had deliberately avoided them, even after Lena and Emily had offered to help her with buying sheets, towels, and clothes of her own. She did not buy poor quality – she had no interest in sackcloth and ashes – but she also had no desire to remind herself of those painful moments from her past.

Amélie stood and looked around the room to reassure herself that the bed was clean and unspoiled – that she was awake – and then took down a nightshirt, pulling it over her head before she left the ‘guest’ bedroom that she had now occupied for almost a year.

She could have moved out. She had the money, thanks to Sombra. She’d taken the offer to become a full member of Overwatch, eventually, but if she had decided to leave, Amélie had no doubt she could find other employment.

But Emily and Lena had never pressed her to leave. Never demanded she pay rent. Never pushed her to do chores or contribute in any other way.

Amélie had slowly come to accept that they liked having her around – that they had become _friends_ – and that she was welcome. It was still a bit strange, really. She remembered having friends before, but that was before she had become…what she was. Who she was.

It had taken months before Amélie had realized she _enjoyed_ living with her former enemies and appreciated their kindness.

So she remained their ‘guest’, and if she had occasionally taken it upon herself to cook, or clean, or use a bit of her money to purchase things for the flat, neither of her ‘roommates’ seemed to mind.

Amélie had gone into the kitchen to make herself coffee, knowing that attempting to sleep again would be futile, when she realized there was a light coming from their living room. Changing direction, she rounded the open breakfast bar to see Emily sitting on the couch, her laptop’s screen casting a glow across her face.  
  
Amélie gave a little wave, then settled down on the opposite side of the couch.

Emily gave her a weary smile back, keeping her voice down in deference to the hour. “Can’t sleep?”  
  
She shook her head, running her fingers over the tattoo on her forearm. “ _Cauchemars –_ nightmares.”

Emily gave her a sympathetic, knowing look.  “That makes two of us, then.”

Amélie frowned. The thought of the normally cheerful – almost unflappable – woman experiencing such things was…troubling. “I am sorry. Do you…would you…wish to talk about them?”  
  
Emily shrugged. “Sometimes things I’ve seen from cases or crime scenes I’ve worked on. Lately, though, they’ve mostly been about the night we met. About what might have happened if you hadn’t been there to stop those thugs from shooting me – or worse.”

“Ah.”  
  
Emily set her laptop aside and reached out a hand. “Yours…?”  
  
She looked down at Emily’s hand for a long moment before reaching out to take it, her blue-tinged skin a vivid contrast to Emily’s pale tones, the fingers and forearm covered in freckles. “Sometimes things I have done…and sometimes things I have not done. Memories mixed with more recent events.”

Emily did not need to know in some of them she was driving the knife into Lena’s chest, not Gérard’s, or that Amélie occasionally relived the night she had rescued her – but in those nightmares Amélie had _supported_ Talon, not stopped them. “Does Lena know?”

Emily seemed confused for a moment, then gave a soft ‘ah.’ “Yes, she knows I have trouble sleeping. Some of the things Lena’s suggested have helped with that, and I’ve started seeing a therapist.”

Amélie suddenly noticed the steaming mug sitting on the table. “Such as having tea?” She had noticed Lena seemed to believe that tea fixed _everything_ , and if that wasn’t the most English thing she had ever heard…

Emily seemed to know what she’d been thinking, and smiled back to her. “Sometimes. Making it gives my hands something to do, at least.” Emily gestured to her computer. “Working on some of my paperwork distracts me. I tend to get focused in and it helps get my mind off anything else bothering me.” She sat back and closed her work. “But for tonight…talking to you is nice. We haven’t gotten to talk as much as I’d like – just the two of us.”

That was true. Since Amélie had been aiding Overwatch more directly, she and Lena were often in the field together when ‘working’, but, at home, Emily’s interactions with her often involved Lena as a moderating influence. A filter, of sorts, to translate Amélie’s occasional coldness thanks to her experience with Widowmaker in the field, or to explain what was going on in moments where Amélie’s memories became overwhelming, robbing her of words and forcing her to turn inwards to confront and reintegrate them.

Moments like this, the two of them alone, had been rare.

Amélie smiled back to her, feeling unexpectedly shy. “Would you mind if I made some coffee?”

Emily’s lips quirked up. “Not at all.”

When she returned with a mug Lena had given her, decorated with a stylized _Tricolour_ , Emily waited for her to settle on the couch and take a sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“I’ve wanted to know, ever since that night, why you _really_ saved me.” Emily leaned back, bringing her knees up onto the couch cushion with a little smile. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the compliment that night.”

Amélie took a moment to collect her thoughts, masking it behind savoring another sip of her sweetened coffee.  

“There were many reasons,” she finally began, “and they are complicated…but the simplest is that I knew what Talon would do to you, if they took you. I did not wish them to have you. I did not wish you to be…changed.” Amélie looked into her mug for a moment, pushing the ghosts of Talon away. “But, I admit, it did not hurt that you _are_ quite beautiful.”

A blush rose on Emily’s cheeks. “So you really did betray Talon for me – well, partially, at least.” Looking into Amélie’s eyes, she lightly dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “You know, I _did_ tell Lena that could go to my head.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. She had not really expected this reaction. She had flirted with both of them, on occasion, but hadn’t really thought it could go anywhere beyond that. She’d always assumed that when they’d flirted back or left little hints of their own, it hadn’t been anything more.

Memories of those interactions replayed in her mind, suddenly taking on new meaning. “So you and Lena are serious about…sharing?”

Emily’s flirtatious smile left little doubt. “I’m certainly game to try, and I know Lena’s been curious about how it might go. That leaves you. So...what do _you_ want, Amé?”

Amélie considered that for a long moment. They were certainly both attractive enough, in their own ways. They accepted her – no, more than that. They _liked_ her. Neither seemed to be jealous of time she spent with one or the other. Emily had teased her, once or twice, about her rivalry and fascination with Lena, going back to their first meeting on the battlefield. Lena occasionally had still made jokes about Amélie trying to ‘steal her girl’, and lately she had also accused Emily of planning to steal _her_ …but none of those remarks ever had any real accusation or venom behind them.

She turned over the experiences she’d had with each woman, and their time together. If she was being honest…yes, she liked them, too. She set what was left of her coffee down on the table, then looked up to meet Emily’s eyes.  “I am not certain if I can be a good girlfriend to _anyone,_ let alone both of you…but I am willing to try.”

Emily answered her by scooting across the couch so she could lean against her shoulder.

Amélie smiled and shifted a bit so she could put her arm around Emily’s waist.

“I’d say,” Emily sighed happily, “that you’re off to a good start.”

* * *

Amélie raised an eyebrow as she came into the kitchen after her shower. Emily didn’t actually require that they clean up and change when they returned home from a mission, but Amélie and Lena had both made it part of their routine. It was good to put away the armor and the weapons, to wash the scents of gunpowder and smoke away. To leave  _Tracer_ and _Widowmaker_ behind, and just be Amélie and Lena, sitting down to dinner with their girlfriend.

Amélie was the first to finish in the shower, and she had barely sat down at the table before Emily was filling her wineglass. “Is there a special occasion, _mon amour?_ ” Emily had put a tablecloth down, set their places with the ‘good plates’ they kept in a separate cabinet, and candles provided a pleasant glow at the center of the table. Amélie knew that today wasn’t their ‘dating anniversary’, but she wasn’t certain what else they would be celebrating.  
  
Emily’s smile was genuine, but there was something in her eyes that was difficult for Amélie to read. “Yes, actually, but I’d like to wait for Lena to get in before I explain.”  
  
As if summoned by her name, Lena walked in to join them, scrubbing at her hair with a towel. “Ooo – this looks amazing, Em!”

Amélie couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Are you saying that because she cooked, _chérie,_ or because you nearly burned down the kitchen the last time you tried to make a salad?”

Lena pouted as she took her seat, draping the towel over her shoulders. “I am hurt and offended you even ask that question, Amé.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Because she’s right?”

Lena stuck out her tongue before she returned to their original conversation.. “Didn’t you say you wanted to tell us something, pet?”

Emily acknowledged the point with a little tip of her head, taking a sip of her wine. “I had a meeting with the lab’s superintendent today. He wanted to know if I would be interested in taking a position as a forensic pathologist working in the main lab instead of as a field criminalist.”

Amélie noticed the way Lena’s eyes widened slightly, and how she put her wineglass down. “Do you want that?”  
  
Emily nodded, setting her own wine to the side. “I do, actually, for several reasons. It would be considered a promotion, which is nice for my CV, there’s a bit of a raise…and it comes with first shift hours and a regular work week.”

Amélie had to chuckle at the last. “I suppose one of us ought to have one eventually.”

“Particularly since…well…” Emily’s eyes softened, and she shifted nervously. “Lena and I had talked a bit, before you came to live with us, about possibly starting a family one day.”

Amélie closed her eyes so they couldn’t see the tears that began to fill them. _All good things must come to an end_. “I see. Do you…wish me to look at getting another flat? I will need a little time to make arrangements.”

Lena’s voice cracked with surprise, making Amélie look up. “What? No!”

Emily reached out to take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Amélie…what I am trying to say is that we could start that family _with you._ ”

For a moment she was so stunned by the very _idea_ that she forgot how to breathe. They already had so many days where Amélie thought she was dreaming – that their relationship was more than she deserved. To go further…to make a _family_... Amélie had never even considered the idea. It was simply too far fetched to ever hope for. “Would that even be possible? I cannot imagine an adoption agency would look kindly on my presence.”

Emily tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, they might not…but we weren’t thinking of adopting, actually.”

Amélie felt even more lost. “Unless you mean to bring home a puppy, I am very confused.”

Emily grinned, sitting up and taking on a slightly more professional air. “There’s a technique to harvest cells from female donors and treat them until they develop into sperm carrying the mother’s DNA. What I…” Emily took Lena’s hand as they looked over to Amélie. “What _we_ wanted to talk to you about was the possibility of collecting cells from both of you that would be combined - splicing that DNA together.  So that any children we conceived would truly be ours. _All_ of ours.”

Amélie felt as if she could barely breathe. _Our children._ Emily and Lena wanted to have _their children_ , and seemed to believe that it could be done. They had _researched_ this... “I had no idea that was even _possible._ ”

Lena giggled. “Miracles of science, luv!”

“The first part is...well. It isn’t exactly _easy_ ,” Emily admitted, “but it’s a proven process. Having three sets of DNA included instead of two is a bit more experimental, but we happen to know some very brilliant doctors and scientists who could give us a hand.”

Amélie felt a wave of nervousness, and tried to mask it by draining the rest of her wine. “If I said yes…if we did this…I take it that you would carry the the pregnancy, Emily?”

“That was our plan, yes. Lena’s…” Emily trailed off and looked over to her. “Well. Do you want to explain?”  
  
“I’m not necessarily _opposed_ to the idea, but the accelerator and the slipstream made things…complicated.” Lena blushed, looking down at her hands. “Something that requires nine months of linear time and my body aren’t likely to be a good mix.”

“Ah.”

Emily looked just a bit nervous. “There would be one other thing.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, trying to appear cool even as her stomach churned. What _else?_

“Well…” Emily coughed sharply again. “The _legalities_ of it would be fuzzy, at best, but I thought we could…that is to say we would _like_... to make things as official as we can. With all of us.”

“Official…?” Amélie tilted her head slightly. “I do not know if I understand.”

Emily coughed, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Keeping in mind that we’re going to need to do some serious tap-dancing, legally…we thought that if we were going to take such a big step together, we thought you might…that we might…get married.”

Amélie was stunned. “So…you – both of you –  would like to marry me.”

“I realize this isn’t the most romantic setup for popping the question,” Lena admitted sheepishly, ”but…yeah.”

_Romantic_ hadn’t even crossed her mind. “And have a child with me.”

Emily nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Lena’s lips quirked into a grin. “No sense doing things halfway, is there?”

Her head was spinning, and it had nothing to do with the Cabernet. “I…I am not _against_ these ideas, but…I need a little time.”

Emily and Lena both nodded, the redhead’s voice quiet and gentle. “This is a lot, we know that. It’s OK, Amé. We’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

“An’ if it isn’t the right time,” Lena agreed, “it’s not the right time.”

Emily changed the subject by asking how their mission had been, and after a few minutes they returned to something more like their usual routine, leaving Amélie to mull over their conversation in peace.

Two days later, Amélie made dinner. _Pot au feu_ , a baguette she baked herself, and even a _tarte tatin_ for dessert. 

Emily smiled as she settled into the chair at their dinner table. She had a feeling what this meant.

“Emily? Lena?”

“What is it, luv?”

Amélie took a deep breath, then made eye contact with each of them before speaking. “Yes.”

Emily began to smile, her eyes misting up, but Lena just blinked, trying to understand what she meant. “Yes?”

Amélie stepped around the table and took her hand, then reached out to Emily with the other. “ _Yes.”_

Sudden comprehension dawned on Lena’s face, and she seized Amélie in a tight hug. “YES!”

Emily’s arms wrapped around her as well, and Amélie was surprised and delighted by the laugh which rose from her throat. “ _Yes!_ ”

After a moment, Lena stepped back, her eyes now filling with tears as well. “We’ll have to tell Winston – and Angie. Going to want her help with the…y’know…science bits.”

Amélie nodded. “Do you think Zenyatta would officiate the wedding?”

Emily grinned as she took her seat at the table again. “I think he’d hit anyone else who tried with one of those orbs.”

Amélie sat back down at the table, fondly watching Lena continue to bounce on her feet with excitement.

“We’re gonna get married! I’m gonna be a mum! And technically a dad! I can’t believe it! We get to make a registry and get baby stuff and oh – oh! Classes! Got to book classes! Em – _we need to buy a crib!_ ”

“Lena,” Emily called fondly, “come eat, you silly goose! We don’t need to do any of that _tonight_ , and your food is getting cold.”

“Right,” Lena smiled sheepishly as she came back to the table, “sorry! Got a little carried away.”

They didn’t discuss their plans again until after Amélie had served them dessert. “Sombra,” she announced matter of factly, “will be my maid of honor.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “Have you asked her?”

Amélie set her jaw, and the look in her eyes was very _Widowmaker_ in that moment. “I will not allow her to refuse.”

“…OK, that will be a Thing,” Lena noted, and Emily just gave a soft little chuckle.

The next few months of planning and preparations for their new life passed in a blur, with days seeming to get shorter and shorter, blurring together until their wedding day had suddenly arrived. The ceremony was small and private, but everyone who attended truly wished to be there – to wish all three of them well – and that mattered more than anything else.

The newlywed Oxtons (Lena had been surprised when they’d both decided to take her name, but she wasn’t complaining) enjoyed a weeklong honeymoon visiting a resort in New Zealand that they’d picked out on the criteria that it was in a beautiful setting, but that Tracer and Widowmaker had never been required to visit in the course of their ‘day jobs.’ It was tranquil, cozy, and borderline boring.

As far as they were concerned, it was perfect.

Two months after they had returned to London, Angela had let them know the sperm cells she had created from Amélie and Lena’s DNA were ready for implantation

Emily had a successful pregnancy test three weeks later, but the real surprise came at their first ultrasound.

Lena’s voice was filled with disbelief as her eyes darted between Emily’s belly and the monitor. “… _twins?_ ”

Angela grinned. “Twins.”

Lena turned to Amélie, who had taken the news by going stock still. “So, I guess our boys can swim, eh?”

Amélie’s eyes slowly rolled up towards the back of her head as she fainted.

* * *

There were classes. Medical appointments. Pre-natal visits. Shopping trips.

The bedroom that had been Amélie’s was converted to a nursery, and they bought a larger bed for the master.

“Probably going to need to think about a larger flat – or a house – as they get older,” Emily admitted as they picked out paint colors, “but this will do for now.”

“Winston had a few ideas for setting up chronal stabilizers for me if we got a new place.” Lena tapped a lavender colored paint sample. “This is nice – doesn’t say ‘boy or girl’.”

Amélie hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps.” Her eyes shifted as she looked out the window. “If we bought a house, I would like trees. A yard. A garden. They should have growing things. Not like…” She trailed off, and Emily reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Growing things are good,” she agreed softly, “and that does sound lovely.”

“Probably have to look for a place outside of town proper.” Lena pursed her lips. “Tell you what – we should all make a list of things we’d want in a house, and then we could see what’s out there. Take our time, find the perfect spot. Maybe move around the time the kids turn one or two…” Lena blushed. “Kids. Our kids. God, that’s…I’m still getting used to saying that.”

Amélie leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Yes, _ma chérie._ Ours. Our children.”

Emily nodded. “Sure you don’t want Angela to tell us the sexes?" 

“Surprises are good,” Lena insisted with a smile.

* * *

Emily groaned as she gingerly sat up in bed. “This was a _terrible_ surprise.”

Lena leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I know, luv. But Angie said the hypertension and your blood sugar should be back to normal after the delivery. All you need to do is take it easy and let us take care of you.”

“I’m not due for a _month_ ,” Emily lamented, “and now I can’t even get out of bed! I’m not supposed to look at work so I don’t get stressed, I can’t help with finishing the room for the babies, and –”

“And it will be fine,” Amélie interrupted as she came in with a tray, “we have the nursery well in hand, and Satya is coming over tomorrow to build cribs and construct the mobile. Angela sent over some exercises we can help you to perform, and I made you breakfast.”

Emily sighed. “I appreciate that she’s helping, and breakfast, but I just…feel so _useless_.”

Amélie shook her head as she placed the tray on the nightstand. “You are not, _ma belle_. You are doing exactly what you need to do.”

Emily seemed about to object when her eyes widened. “ _Oh._ Here – _here…_ ” She reached for her wives’ hands and brought them to her belly. “Can you feel them?”

“Ooo,” Lena cooed, “someone’s a footballer, aren’t they?”

“Very – but it’s a bit less pleasant when they manage to punt my bladder.” Emily closed her eyes again, feeling their children shift and move. “I think they’re getting anxious – can’t wait to meet your mommies, can you?”

“And we are looking forward to seeing them,” Amélie murmured. “So – you see? You have the most important job of all.”

* * *

“Lena?”

The sound of Emily’s voice slowly filtered through her brain, and she turned beneath the covers, snuggling a little closer to her pillow. “Mmmf…fivem’reminnits…”

“ _Lena._ ” Emily’s voice was more insistent now, and she gave Lena’s shoulder a little shake, making her turn over and open her eyes.

She had to blink a few times to get the world into focus, and after a moment Lena realized Emily’s face seemed oddly drawn and uncomfortable. “Wha…? Em?”

Despite the discomfort, Emily managed a smile. “I think it’s time.”

Lena’s brows knit. “Time…?” Then the realization hit her, and she sat upright with a burst of adrenaline. “ _Time!_ Amélie! _Amélie!”_

Amélie sat up with a groan, but her eyes were bright as she grabbed a pair of pants off of the floor and began pulling them on. “Get your shoes on and start the car. I will get the bag.”

Most of their friends had expected that when Emily was in labor, Lena would be the one who spent the entire time on the edge of panic, and Amélie the sanguine one.

None of them had bothered asking Angela, which the doctor considered a shame. She’d seen how each of them had been coping over the last several months, and she would have enjoyed making a bit of money on the side bets.

As she walked into the birthing suite to join her patients, Lena was doing an admirable job of holding Emily’s hand and taking her through some of her breathing exercises. Amélie, on the other hand, was pacing like a captive animal, winding herself taut with tension until she caught sight of the doctor entering the room.

“Angela!” Amélie was almost on top of her as she began to bombard her with questions. “How do things look? She is _early_ \- are the babies well? Will we need to go into surgery? Did you see anything at her last exam? Is there _anything_ we can do?”

Angela raised a placating hand. “Easy, please.” She looked over to where Emily had been settled on the birthing bed. “How far apart were your last contractions?”

Emily blew out a deep breath before she tried to speak, and Angela could see the muscles of her abdomen tightening. “Last one was…three minutes ago…and I think another is starting!”

“Good!” Angela ran her gloves through the sterilization field, then approached the end of the bed. “The last ultrasound showed the babies are both positioned well for a natural delivery. You are about a week and a half early from the expected delivery date, but I’m not too concerned about it.” She offered her friends and patient a reassuring smile. “Sometimes the babies have their own calendars. I haven’t seen any signs of complications so far.”

Turning, she looked over to where Amélie was watching with intense focus. “As to what you can do, Amélie, if you could go and get a cup of ice chips, please? Emily will need them for hydration. When you come back, I want you to be responsible for helping her stay hydrated as we proceed.”

Once Amélie had left the room at a pace somewhere between a brisk walk and a determined run, Angela let herself chuckle. “She seems to be taking it as well as I had expected.”

Lena shrugged. “She worries – and she wants everything to go well. It’s not a situation she has a lot of experience in.”

Emily nodded, sweat beading up on her brow. “Our lovely, deadly, mother hen… _aaaaaa!”_

Angela waited for Emily to recover from the latest contraction, then nodded. “I’m going to have the bed positioned to give you a better angle for delivery, Emily. We’ll get you into the stirrups and give you a bar to push against. Lena, please keep helping with breathing - and do try to keep Amélie under control?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Sure, Angie, but who keeps _me_ under control? Both my girls are going to be occupied!”

Angela gave a little snort of laughter as she started to shift the lower section of the bed around as she’d promised. “How is your pain right now, Emily? I do have an epidural prepared for you.”

Emily shook her head as sharply as she could. “It’s… _ha_ …not overwhelming yet. I’d prefer to do everything naturally, if possible.”

Angela frowned, but nodded. It was Emily’s body after all, and her decision. “All right. Just in case I want you to switch out of that dress and into a hospital gown, please.”

Lena shifted so she could help Emily swing her legs over and bring the maternity dress she’d worn up over her head. “Better safe than sorry?”

“Quite.” Emily ducked her head as the dress came off, then slipped her arms through the gown and let Lena drape it over her. “I’m not going to be stupid about it, I promise, Angela. If you decide we need to go to surgery – or that I need the epidural – I’ll say yes. But I want…” She paused. “I want to be aware of everything, if I can.”

Angela smiled back to her. “I understand – and I do respect your choice, Emily. Now – let’s get you comfortable, we’re going to be here for a little while.”

Labor lasted almost fourteen hours, and in that time nearly every one of their friends and colleagues in Overwatch who weren’t needed in the field had managed to show up at the maternity waiting room. Some relaxed, some nervous, some excited, but all there to support their friends, and looking forward to meeting the newest members of their odd extended family.

When the doors finally opened, everyone was on their feet, and a moment later Lena and Amélie were there, each with a bundle carefully cradled in their arms.

“Em’s gonna need rest,” Lena declared with a weary smile, “an’ so do we…but before we all go up to have a nap we thought everyone might like to meet Benjamin and Vivyan.”


End file.
